


Drawing a Pursuit

by XOXOg



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blood, Gay, M/M, Vampires, m/m - Freeform, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6886681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XOXOg/pseuds/XOXOg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One open mouth can ruin your life.<br/>Sixteen year old August moves away from his busy life to a picturesque rural village very far away, with the hopes of adapting to his new personality. But, there are a few complications. How can a completely ordinary boy with completely abnormal tendencies survive here? </p><p>The characters were firstly loosely based on Gerard Way, Frank Iero and Mikey Way but are completely unique, so I wanted to separate them with their own names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

 

At exactly 12:01, on the 4th of November, August lie awake; he wanted a drink. He really wanted a drink. Thoughts chased through his mind, but the bittersweet liquid was constant. Addiction is a funny thing when your body physically needs it. With most addictions, you have a spark- one sharp cigarette, two little pills. August, however, had a birthday.

Not only did he have a pining for the untouched substance that drove him around the bend, he wasn't very impressed with the way his pain threshold was coping- driving him right off the bend and into a ditch. With sheep.   
It felt exactly as it had been described to him a year before, like the entirety of his vein structure was rewiring.

If you were to turn your body left, walk forward, and then turn right, as though programmed to a destination, you would find his parents, smirking as they glanced over at the illuminated clock.   
"Should we go in there?"   
"If you want your head ripped off, just leave him."  
"But Matt, he'll be confused and frustrated. What if he does something dangerous?"  
"He won't. He's well educated, he's not stupid."  
"Pain makes you do uncharacteristic things." She shuddered, pulling up her duvet to her chin. Her husband put a comforting arm around her.

"August is strong."

August was weak, so tired and weak. He lifted up one cold hand and laid it across his sweating head. His fingertips were tight and shriveled. He pressed the fourth one of his second hand to his wrist, relieving the ache slightly. The old family hourglass had been set at midnight. Nine more minutes to endure, and he could drink. He wasn't supposed to, but he could; and damn, was he going to.  
With a pain-induced twist of his body, he muttered a firework of curses, flexing his spine away from the mattress and clenching his fists. All he wanted to do was die.

Eight minutes.

The newly 16 year old boy, flinched as the pain developed into pinpricks, tapping on his skin from the inside. He did not scream, which was considered brave. He did not feel brave. Reaching over towards his dresser, he grabbed the nearest mirror, his initial thought was that he looked dead. His second thought was that this was awesome.  
Pause for three, two one, and then hit the reminder of his immense pain, resulting in him letting out a shuddered vocal.

Seven minutes.

August tried to distract himself by looking out of the window, the sky was black, hinting at purple, a fog still hung in front of the moon. His unfamiliar surroundings did not help his pain. He could not make a sound, someone would call the cops.

Six minutes.

The hourglass was like a glinting beacon of hope; tinged with a blackened tar that somehow erased every thought and replaced it with anguish. The sand didn't seem to move fast enough for him, he struggled to maintain his composure. He was starting to feel like a victim of Dracula, although, he decided he'd probably like that better. Horror movies are a good distraction, -he thought- let's think about movies. Uh, and Morrissey. No, shit, Morrissey's neck is not a water fountain, Fuck. Fucking Dracula movies. Fuck that.

August wanted a drink, August needed a drink.  
Five minutes.  
He could cope with that, he had managed that already. Exactly what he'd already been through, again. Ugh, all over again.

Worse.

August's composure slipped again, feeling as if a sharp, defined knife was slitting, ever so slowly, right down his forearm. He winced, the kind of reaction to fingernails on a blackboard.

Worse.

His father had not told him it would be this bad. He wasn't sure if he was trying not to scare him, or maybe he'd just forgotten what it was like.

August thought of home; he had friends there -hell, they were regarded as huge losers, just as much as August was- he thought of Jeremy and his stupid pet snail, he'd miss that.  
Back home he also had no reason to hurt, it was where he felt human. Back in New Jersey, miles away, thousands of miles away.

August had always regarded himself as an intelligent person, reaching out for literature, art, and not following crowds.  
Meanwhile, he had also stated that he did not want to be one of those "Old, snooty librarian fucks," and then continued into a rant about how they "only know shit about books nobody honestly wants to read."   
However, not dissimilar to the aforementioned stereotype, August did not stray from curse words.

He thought about what tomorrow held for him; probably stuck in bed all day, being watched over and controlled. August doubted his parents and brother would take this lightly. He had to get out before they knew he could. In three minutes, window, tree, forest, escape.

Except he couldn't. 

Two minutes. He exhaled, two more minutes. The hourglass appeared to accentuate just how long it seemed to someone in pain. Speaking of the pain, it was receding, but still prominent. August decided that he did not wish this on his brother in two years, not one bit, even though he had indeed, stolen the last packet of chips, he wouldn't wish this on anybody. Except maybe Duncan Lancaster. (8th grade toilet incident, August's mom wasn't pleased.) He told himself he wouldn't wish it on "even Duncan Lancaster" though, just to make him feel like a better person.

He suddenly jumped, looking like he was in cardiac arrest. The pain. Oh, the pain. Thousands and thousands of different shards of glass prickled against his spine.  
"One minute! Just one minute!" he half-shouted. He didn't care what the non-existent nearby villagers thought. It probably sounded weird.  
He heard a stir from the room next to him; his parents were light sleepers, they must have noticed the shrieking coming from him, for sure.  
He had to get out. August tried to stand, falling back down onto the bed, near tears. His spine was still weak, his limbs were limp. He was simply a bag of bones; almost literally.

Sixty,

fifty-nine,

fifty-eight,

fifty-seven,

fifty-six,

fifty-five,

fifty-four,

fifty-three,

fifty-two,

fifty-one,

fifty,

forty-nine.

'Try again,' he willed himself, placing his arms on the sides of his makeshift mattress bed, trying not to trip over the boxes scattered around his room.  
He still hadn't unpacked, they'd got here three days ago, his parents wanted to make sure he didn't get stuck at an airport on the night of his birthday, but they wanted to move before the change, they were gonna need more forest, more discretion. There was a reason August was going through this, of course.  
There was a reason his entire family went through this, but August could not tell anyone.  
Building and building, everything got worse, he resisted movement, his stomach flipping and churning, and with his arms beginning to shake uncontrollably. It stopped.  
That was how the story began.

August smiled, a big, toothy grin that just expelled relief; and then fell fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 1

The sun rose, as it did every morning- but this time with a slight twist, just like every morning.  
Mist was still apparent in the air, but it was pretty, if that meant anything.

August rolled over, sniffing and wriggling his cheek closer to his pillow, startling himself awake with a solitary hiccup. The bedroom windows were still wide open, he shivered, wrapping himself into the bedding. His eyelids ached from the light, they had been shielding him from it all night.  
August tried to ignore his deep-rooted craving for a drink. Not much had changed since he went to sleep.  
He had one day before school started, so today would be recovery day, education day.

"Good morning. How are you feeling sweetheart?"  
"Mom?" August half groaned, half questioned.  
Lillian entered the room, a smile brushed her lips.   
That's Mrs {doesn't have a surname yet}, to you.

Hesitantly, she made her way to her son's bedside.  
"Are you thirsty?" she asked, looking slightly afraid of the answer his lips held.  
"Not as much as last night, but.. Well yeah, stupidly."  
Letting out a sad smile, she rushed out of the door and grabbed a tray that had been expectantly waiting outside. August's eyes traced over what his mother had prepared: a piece of toast, a cup of coffee and an David Bowie flask, closed in by a lid. He pointed to the flask, eyebrows raised.   
"Mom I thought I was gonna-"  
"No, August. Not a good idea."  
"But my senses are most accurate now? I could do it."  
"Just drink it." His mother sighed, handing him the flask.  
Pausing for a second, August squeezed his eyes shut and took a gulp, gently, his eyes relaxed into a smile. He exhaled after the sip, feeling like he'd gone from sickly to strong in a couple of seconds. "Thanks." he breathed, looking down shyly. "Eat your breakfast, shower and meet your dad and Valentine in the lounge." Lillian stated, trying to give a firm instruction to her eldest child, who blatantly didn't see this in any way permanent.

Fifty nine minutes later, August was laying on his bed reading a book and ignoring his parents shouting. He always did this, he'd get distracted by something and just decide not to move. For hours.  
Life actually didn't seem that different since his birthday, no priorities had really changed, he was still lazy, with no intention of altering that. He knew that physically, he'd be able to overcome this, but this laziness was not in his body, but his mind.

"August, I'm serious! I know you're out of the shower, come on, Valentine and your Father are waiting!"  
It really was getting serious, she'd used the word 'father.'

August didn't care so much about making his parents wait- he'd been doing that for 16 years- but the thought of Valentine waiting somehow spurred him into action. He and Valentine had always been close: seen their first concerts together, played video games together, got slightly-too-drunk, slightly-too-young together, and just enjoyed each other's company.  
August pulled on his jeans and most comfortable hoodie, not even bothering to put on a t-shirt; before reverting his opinion back to the one where he wore one, because he remembered how cold it was in this shit heap.  
Thundering down the stairs, indenting the steps with one more imprint that would inevitably lead to their demise, he arrived in front of his stern-faced mother. His peripheral vision arrived in front of his dad, a smirk on his face.

"Hey kid." He chuckled, standing up at his entrance. "Hey adult." August replied, yet another one to add to the collection of 'what they'd been saying for like, ever.'  
"I can't believe this day has finally come. I'm so proud." He said, walking over to his son, pulling him into a hug. August relaxed into it, pushing away the thought of wanting to escape. He let out an uncomfortable giggle, his voice denying his masculinity.  
"I wanted to talk to you and Valentine." August's father said.   
"Yes?" His eldest son questioned.  
"So, you've got a lot of decision making to do over the next few years and I wanted to make sure that you both know that your mother and I will not judge you on whatever you choose, but please be respectful."  
A smile brushed the corners of his mouth, his upper middle class English accent shining through.  
"Do either of you know what you will choose? This is more relevant for August than you, Valentine." He asked, stated, said.  
August stared at him. "Uh, I want to...try..." his voice stumbled. "No, nevermind."  
"Go on?" His father's eyebrows furrowed.  
"Well," he delved. "If I were to sense vulnerability, I could seek out the source of it and use it. For the moment though, maybe just what we have stored." He coughed out.  
"Not vulnerability as in the victim," he clarified, "but the prey, the person trying to hurt the other. " A righteous revenge.

Nodding, his father made a mental note, appearing to accept this.  
Valentine just stared with his big doe eyes and his vacant expression that he had been wearing in decisive situations since everyone could remember.

"Have you got your stuff for school tomorrow?" Lillian asked, drifting back into the scene, changing the subject. "Yeah, and Mom?" She stopped retreating back to wherever she was before, and faced him. "Mhm?"  
"Thank you." August said, kissing her cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, it means so much!! If you are enjoying, I would love to hear your comments, if not, feedback is always welcome. Let's continue shall we? <3


	3. Chapter 2

The door was perhaps the most glaring and visible barrier in the way of August and his first class, but most certainly not the one stopping him from going inside. With a rush of breath and a sharp intake of adrenaline, his palms closed the gap between his ideals and fears. Tuesday morning music class. It could be worse.

"Good morning?" a face questioned, dark eyes and furrowed brows.  
"Hi, I-, I'm supposed to be in this class. I just moved here." he whispered, his voice cracking once again. August's face visibly cringed.

He'd arrived at Thorn Creek Academy approximately an hour ago. He'd met the receptionist, acquired the time-table, mentally complained about said time-table, and got to his first lesson successfully.  
Woo.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Miss Love, take a seat, there's a few spare." She gestured about the room, eyes scanning across the empty chairs. "We're just talking about minimalist techniques and then we'll move on to instrument work." August smiled, his dimples creasing up his face. He chose wisely: the seat in the corner near the radiator.

"Do you play an instrument," she studied the register. "Mr __?"  
"Guitar -badly." he glanced up. Eyes meeting the teacher, meeting the floor.  
"There's plenty of guitars in the cupboard, so I guess I'll be the one to judge that," she smirked. August didn't particularly want to play in front of anyone, and he suspected she knew this.

 

The room was wide, large and scattered with distracted looking teens, doodling on worksheets; straining for their instruments in tortured expressions that could only be described as sheer boredom. In the nicest way that August could think to put this, everyone looked... pretty normal.  
The girls all seemed to have their hair tied in the same way, same style of skirt, shoes- they weren't the popular type, but the ones who were popular for being 'different', which were the worst type of popular kids in August's mind.

The guys, August had noticed, all wore some kind of strange quiff which would have probably got them beaten up in Jersey. Before you ask- August didn't understand either; he was busy being disappointed. In Jersey at least, people didn't wear uniform. You could see right through into their tastes and quirks, quickly scouting for the people similar to yourself. Here however, he was having a hard time finding anyone who looked unique in the slightest. That was, until he spotted some dude trying to sneak in through the window right next to him at the back of the class.

"What the...!?" the boy said as he spotted August in his seat. August's eyes darted to the front of the class, Miss Love had left for some reason that he hadn't managed to acknowledge.  
Opening the window wider for him, he let out a suppressed grin. The boy's feet landed on August's desk, before sauntering along it and right off of the edge. He plonked down in the seat beside him, brushing a strand of dark hair from his eyes.  
August held out his hand for the boy to shake. "Nice to meet you, too." he grinned, relieved to have found someone who seemed like his idea of fun was not glowsticks and ecstasy. Probably.

"Ren." he said, high-fiving his hand instead. August raised an eyebrow. "I'm August."  
"Hey August, sorry about that. But, I've had a nasty bus ride and you have a Smiths badge on your bag, so I'm obliged to feel comfortable around you." He said, turning his chin up to the sky, expression faux-obnoxious.  
"Holy shit, you like The Smiths?"

Well guess who's first day just got better?

"Nope, I hate them, that's why I've seen them 5 times."  
"Well, now I hate you."  
"Is this how you treat everyone you've just met?"  
"Not normally, but I've just had the induction from hell and you like The Smiths, so I'm obliged to feel comfortable around you," August mirrored.  
"Why thank you. First day, huh? Mine was shit, of course."  
Yet another thing he hadn't noticed. "American accent?"  
"Jersey cross breed Italy, countries have some weird shit going on."

August went silent for a minute, letting it sink in that some guy with a jawline that admittedly made him feel slightly faint, had literally jumped into his music class and started implying the breeding of countries. Countries. August wasn't even feeling shy.

The door opened, followed by Miss Love.  
"Ah, you've deigned to join us have you, Lorenzo?"  
August smirked, prompting his leg being kicked under the table.  
"I was here all along, Miss."  
She threw him a disapproving glare. "I'll let you off this time. There will not be a next time. Understand?  
Everyone, grab your instruments, go off to the practice rooms. We'll meet in twenty minutes."

And of course, Ren and August went off together, and every single onlooker's eyes lit up and a neon sign glowed in everyone's mind. Friendship.

 

"What can you play?" Ren tested, his back arched against the wall, head slouched, pen in mouth, leg up in a fashion that resembled a 50s pin-up girl.  
"Nothing, absolutely zilch."  
"Wait, I get it... this is one of those I-do-all-the-work lessons, right?"  
"Right." August nodded.  
"Awesome." he said, grabbing the guitar. "This is my favourite song at the moment."  
His eyes closed peacefully as he played, causing a shadow to appear under his eyelids.

"So, how'd you end up in this place anyway?" Ren asked, still playing.  
"Dad's new job," August lied, "how about you?"  
"Apparently the crime rate was worrying my Mom or something, wanted to settle down. I don't even know."  
August chucked. "Ah, the crime rate card. In other words, the.."this neighbourhood is a shithole and I'm surprised we haven't got stabbed yet" card?"  
"Precisely."  
"What are we supposed to be doing in here anyway?" August asked, narrowing his eyes in thought. Ren shrugged. "Guess we'll find out."

"Everyone come back in, we will all be performing our pieces!" the teacher yelled.

"Oh."

 

 

"Well, that was embarrassing." Ren blushes. "Sorry about that."  
"You distracted me, I'm blaming you."  
"Fine." They both crashed into a plant.

"Oh," August continued, "-can we meet my brother at the Cafeteria? He's two years below us, probably confused as hell."  
"You have a brother? Aww. Yeah, sure. What's his name?"  
"Valentine."  
"What the fuck, you guys get the funky name gene or something, Jesus Christ."  
"Shut up, Lorenzo."  
"Don't."  
August pursed his lips. "Be nice, he's sweet. My parents are just weird, okay?"

They arrived at the cafeteria in minutes; it was helpful for August to have someone to guide him. Ren got a smile from a group of various genders from the year below, they all idolized him and dressed themselves in dark clothes, begging for his approval. He liked to say hello sometimes, but he didn't really fancy lowering his jokes down an age demographic.

"Val!" August called out, spotting his little brother in the corner of the room, sat on his own, biting his fingertips. Ren was quite surprised, Valentine looked nothing like August at all, he was sporting a thickly-framed pair of glasses and possibly the skinniest limbs Ren had seen on a guy, his rucksack consumed him. 

Looking up, alarmed, Valentine spotted his brother and his acquaintance. "Hi August!" he chirped, blatantly relieved for the company. "Who's this?" He whispered.

"This is Ren, he's the best person you'll meet all day."  
Valentine's eyes lit up.   
"Hello." he beamed. 

Unzipping his bag, August got out his lunch money and glanced around once again. The layout of the cafeteria was far from huge, crowding in places, but it didn't seem as daunting as he'd expected. 

Strolling over to the vending machine, he nibbled on his hand, trying to conceal the overwhelming feeling he'd gotten as he'd stood.

Hearing colloquial, inclusive details about one boy's weekend, he fled from their eyesight and tried to get through the circulation of the machine as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, they certainly picked up on this. He trained his ears to gather the gist of what they were saying.  
"Who's that guy over there?"  
"Dunno, looks fucking weird." The boy raised his voice. " Alright there fella?"

Queue August's swift exit.

"Oi, where you going?" Keeping his head down, he refused to acknowledge their existences.  
"I'm talking to you!"

August slid back into his seat, Ren laughing at him, he stifled a giggle himself.

"Gosh August, he was talking to you!" he laughed, mocking the vending machine guy's empty threats.  
"Oh god, really?" August laughed, throwing a hand across his chest.  
"Hmm, I don't know. Maybe you ought to ask him?" They laughed.

"I see why you guys get on." Valentine piped up, his voice barely scratching the volume levels of a person who is not cripplingly shy.  
"I thought this was place was supposed to be posh, Jesus." August said as he sipped on his apple juice and looked over at his brother. "So anyway, how is your day going so far?"  
Valentine let out a tiny sigh. "Pretty awful, the classes are boring and I don't think anyone has spoken to me yet."  
"Hi." Ren said, teamed with a brief wave of his hand, just so Valentine couldn't say that again today.

Physic(ally sick)s.   
August did not like Physics.   
Physics bored August because it wasn't the fun science where you set fire to things, nor the cool science where you cut up dead things, instead, it was the one where you spend your time writing notes and being in a constant state of confusion.  
Ren wasn't in his class, because Ren had only put his name down for double; meaning he took "science" and opposed to three of them. August thought that this was an asshole move from his part, because now he had no one to talk to. There was also the fact that August had been put back a year to cover the change in topics, so was now treated like a fourteen/fifteen year old, as opposed to fifteen/sixteen, which wasn't a big deal, but the other students acted like four year olds, and it was making him slightly homicidal.  
"Can anybody remind me of one reason why Wegener's theories were not proven to be correct at the time he proposed them?"  
Because Wegener was a whiny little shit bag who nobody liked, that's why.  
"August?"  
"Uh, his previous theories had been incorrect?"  
"That's right."  
Annddd, move along to another victim.  
And five more. And then everyone got their bags, and then everyone left.  
Art was next on the cards, and this was the one subject August was actually looking forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For still being here, you are officially my favourite person. Should I start a song of the day?


	4. Chapter 3

As she looked upon his moon-gazing eyes, glistening in the light of the drawing from the page in front of him, Ren completely ignored her.

August laughed a little at the scene that was playing out before him. The girl was quite uninteresting to look at from an artist perspective: hair the colour of boredom, eyes the colour of dead grass. But she was pretty, a dusting of freckles scattered her face, doodled ink scattered her hands. In the right eyes, she could be beautiful. But August's eyes were trained to laugh at situations like this. He wasn't too interested in womanly wiles.

The girl coughed a little, trying to get the shorter boy's attention; bewildered, he looked around, coughed, and settled his eyes back down to the paper. August bit his lip to not laugh, watching from across the room.

"Hi." She whispered to Ren, he looked up and beamed. "Hey."   
"My name is Holly."  
"Ren."  
And August still laughed.  
His ears faltered a little, but he heard a rough outline of the conversation: Holly liked his drawing, Ren blushed out a thank you, Holly spoke about her drawing, Ren questioned her about it, Holly flirted like mad, and Ren was oblivious.  
August decided to go over and introduce himself, since she looked pretty set on getting closer to Ren, and she did seem to have pretty good taste in music from what he could observe from the patches on her bag.

August ignored his shaking hands and pushed through the barrier he knew wasn't really there.  
"Hello." he spoke loudly, jolting her out of her daze. "I thought I'd come over to say hi since I'm new as of today and I could do with some social interaction." She smiled politely "Hi, my name is Holly."   
August pretended he did not know this information and continued the conversation before sitting himself down next to Ren, who was still failing to copy the print-out.

"You kinda suck at this." August told him bluntly after a few minutes, it seemed their current friendship revolved around insults. "You kinda suck." he retorted.   
"Woah, that's not a nice thing to say August, I think Ren is good at art!" Holly protested, her expression priceless.   
"I don't even think Ren is good at art." A rather bored Lorenzo stated, trying to carry on with his drawing. August got out his pencils and decided to ignore them for the rest of the lesson to try and see how their relationship developed without his input.  
They covered many topics: music, school, teachers they disliked and liked, other students, the local coffee shop. In fact, the local coffee shop was definitely playing a part in the conversation. August was pretty sure Holly was trying to hint for Ren to invite her out for a date there. He couldn't believe that it would have taken a change in seating plans for Holly to find the guts to speak to Ren, she appeared very forward and straight to the point. Ren didn't appear to get the message. August thought this was kinda stupid.

Miss Carlie announced that the lesson was ending and everyone gathered their bags.  
August suddenly worried that he may have done the same as Holly and had come on to Ren too strong- not with flirting, but with all the insults, so he decided to try to keep a bit more distance between them and not to rush into a friendship.

"We're going to leave the room in a few minutes, check there are no pens or supplies on the floor, line up behind your chairs and we can go."  
And then she let them go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. I'm sorry the chapters are short..  
> Here's my song of the day: Free by Jon Walker. I have been looking for bands similar to Panic's album Pretty Odd for just about forever, so this made my day to discover.  
> Love you.


	5. Chapter 4

"Where do you live by the way?" Ren asked August as he met him outside the class.  
"Uh.. by the forest, round by the lake? With the water churner thing?"  
"Ah, Jupiter's Lane."  
"Is that what it's called?" August questioned, "that's kinda awesome."  
"I guess. Well, I live on the other edge of the forest, so I guess we could walk back together?"  
"I was gonna take the bus, but sure, it could do me some good."  
They walked off of the school site and onto the roadside. The sky was already beginning to dim into a pale violet, clouds clogging together to form a haze over the entirety of their upwards view. The forrest that was nearing up ahead apposed the pale sight nicely. It was a deep, dark green, and everything below the forrest's decorations were graced with a dark shadow.   
"Through there?" August questioned. Ren nodded and persisted forward. They were moving at a steady pace, with the urgency of people who were trying to get somewhere, but the calm of people who didn't quite care how long it took. A few school buses passed them, but as they reached the trees, they were pretty much out of sight.

Once they had finally reached the forrest, it seemed to close itself in on them, the tall trunks leaning over to greet them, whining in various stages of affection. August had never seen an atmosphere quite like it. He shivered.  
"Are you cold? Why didn't you bring a coat?"  
August shrugged.  
"Welcome to England." Ren chuckled, a sly grin running up his cheek.

They walked mostly in silence until they got to Ren's house, the only sound to be heard was the crunching of leaves beneath their feet. The sky was beginning to change into that dark violet colour that August had seen the night before. Ren's house was smaller than his own, but a reasonable size, two stories high, with a bright green front door, and every house on the street was identical.  
"Well, we're here." Ren grinned.   
"Thanks for walking back with me."  
"No worries. I'll see you tomorrow then?" August questioned, smiling freely.  
"Sure. Can you remember how to get home?" Ren looked worried, suddenly remembering that this was all new to him. "Yes, I'll be fine." August said, already beginning to back away from Ren's door. "Okay then. Goodbye!" he waved, as the key jolted him forward into his front room.  
"Bye!"

August had no idea how to get home.

He wandered back towards the trees, it was getting darker and darker. Once he got into a suitably dark and covered spot, he began to shake. He shut his eyes tightly, he'd been waiting for this moment.

He wasn't sure if this was exactly when and where he'd wanted this to happen, but it would be where it did anyway. He dropped onto all fours and raised one arm into the air, then the other, then his legs. He tensed up his face a little and his vision was suddenly obscured with a mop of black hair. His bright green eyes narrowed and the shaking began to stop. It was weird for him, since his eye-line had pretty much shrunk at least ten centimeters. And y'know, even weirder since he was now a large black cat.

And then he ran. He ran as fast as he could, stopping only to find a giant pile of rocks blocking his view to whatever was on the other side. August's nostrils retracted as he sniffed around the leaves and dirt, everything smelt different- not better, just different. He took a running jump over the rocks, his claws catching on the very top rocks, he winced in pain, but it subsided and he continued the jump. August then decided to test his new nimble body, he didn't understand why it didn't feel weird, he'd known this would happen, but anyway, everyone should find it at least a little weird, especially after 15 years of being in one body, but it felt natural for August.

His new form helped him to track down past paths, places and smells he recognised, he found the path to his house almost instantly, seeing a faint wisp of pale air escaping from behind a collection of trees. With another few trembles, he was human again, sat on the floor laughing and looking up to the sky incredulously. "Wow."

Placing his palms on the floor, he scrambled up, wiping his hands on his jeans. His fingers were slightly bloody. August then set off on a casual walk towards his house, and to the smell of food that was coming from the open kitchen door.


	6. Chapter 5

The next morning's scene change transitioned nicely and the bright sun entered the stage. Winter was encasing the country quite forcefully, and the sky was hinting at thoughts of snow. August had been excited to go to school and see where his new life would take him, but as he now stood shivering outside waiting at the bus stop, his bag tugged angrily on his left shoulder, his walkman skipped, and his stomach had created quite a tempest.

A loud noise jolted him out of his trance --a bus horn. He rushed forward and got aboard, shooting a quick smile to the driver. August found a seat and put his headphones back on.   
The vehicle jumped to life and his   
thoughts began to move with it; August was still so new to everything, it was terrifying.

He thought about the trees he drove past, and how many of them held secrets. Streaks of orange resin sliding down their bark, dark ivy and bright moss gracing the charred bark with their presence. There was no way they'd not lived a lot.

Eventually, five songs later, they pulled up outside the school. Ren was waiting next to reception, chatting eagerly with Holly.  
August wrapped his headphones around the tape player and scrambled up and off the bus. "Thanks!" He called to the bus driver.

A group of girls rushed past, nearly knocking into him, laughter shrilling through the air. He dodged past them and made his way over to his new friends.

"Morning!" He called, his boot falling into a pile of mud as he stepped onto the grass.   
"Hey August. Did you get home okay last night?" Asked Ren awkwardly, looking slightly guilty. "Yeah yeah yeah, no worries. Thank you for walking with me."   
"No problem, do you wanna do it again tonight?"  
"Sounds good." August smiled, who knew making friends could be so easy?

Holly glanced up at August expectedly. "Good morning," he replied and she smiled, nudging into Ren's shoulder as she did so.  
"But Ren, I thought we were going out for coffee this afternoon."   
His eyes looked slightly panicked, as if caught out that he had forgotten. "August can come, can't he?" He smiled.   
August noted the pleading and somewhat wild look in Holly's eyes, so quietly excused himself from the invitation, he didn't want to be a bother by interrupting their date with his own raging boner for the guy.

The day passed swiftly until lunchtime, as August was eager to see Ren and catch up.  
"I've been thinking. There's a fair amount to see here so you may as well see it. Are you free at the weekend?" He looked up from his food, his eyes meeting August's, eager and fixed.  
"Yeah I think so. For what?" August asked, cocking his head to the side and leaning on his hand.  
"For exploring the museum. You down? It's mostly fucking wack, but it's fun."  
"Sure! What time--"  
"--Hey guys! You'll never guess what happened in history. Also, Ellen told me something about you."   
Holly slid her tray across the table and set her bag down on the floor beside the seat.  
"Who's Ellen?" He asked. His pent-up fears oozing out.   
"Oh, she's the blonde girl from your music class. Anyway, she told me you live in the old Green Bridge house, up Jupiter?"  
"Um, yeah? How does she know?"  
"Not sure, think she had the hots for your brother." August blinked. "Or you, I'm not sure but I kind of doubt that because she knows about your... situation." August blinked. "Anyway, you know what happened there, right?"  
Now he was starting to get confused.   
And he was starting to slightly regret befriending her. Not that he disliked her, but he had rather been enjoying Ren's company and conversation without the shrill input.

"Oh my god. You don't know. Well, okay. Loads of people were found dead there, like fifty years ago. Not just there but all up the woods and everything, and it took forever for them to be found, right? 'Cause they were all inside the house. What's worse is they were kind of being preserved there. Apparently, forensic evidence showed they were each cut into every day or so. Fuck knows why this sick old man wanted them. Vile, right?"  
"Holly, what the fuck?! Why would you tell him that?" Ren exclaimed. August began to shake slightly, feeling his brain become a little numb.  
"For fucks sake Holly."   
"They let him go as well, apparently."  
August rose from his seat. "Excuse me a second, I have to go to the bathroom."  
As he left the room, he spotted Ren shaking his head at Holly and shooting concerned looks at August.

The bathroom was cold as he felt the urge surge through him. There were three men in there, but he had to keep walking. He got to the stall, diving his hand into his bag, rummaging until he found what he needed. He grabbed the needle and turned it around a little in his palm, inhaling the scent from afar appreciatively. He took a sharp hit at his vein, breathing inwardly. His mouth curved up and he let out a soft moan of relief. He heard laughter outside the cubicle and quickly straightened himself out. Blood dripped off the needle and he stroked over it with his finger until it rested on the tip of it. He licked up his index finger, savouring the thick inky substance.   
Thank god.  
He may have trouble sleeping after being told that tale, and God, how awful it must have been. But-but the idea of all those bodies, seeping blood and nutrients. One vampire having a week-long feast, it just made him desperate. He was disgusted with himself, but he couldn't resist it. At least it was all part of the hormones.  
At least he had no desire to do the same.


	7. Chapter 6

Ren apologised profusely. "It's fine honestly, my parents guessed there was a reason a house that big was selling so cheaply."   
"I promise nothing else weird happens here. Are you sure you're okay?" Ren's eyebrows lowered, trying to gauge August's reaction  
"I'm fine." He hesitated. "I didn't leave because of that."  
"Oh?"  
It was silent for a while. They were travelling to the maths block. A pair of long brown plaits dropped her pen and Ren knelt down to pick it up for her. Oh, plaits and a pair of glasses.

"Is it because of me and Holly? Is that a problem because I can- I mean- we can stop."  
"No. I had to deal with some medical issues, don't worry about it." Ren looked down, his eyes widening slightly. "What did Holly mean by my 'situation'?"  
Ren rubbed his knuckle along the bridge of his nose, averting his gaze. "Hm?"  
"She said that people knew about my... situation?"  
August studied his face; it flashed guilt, with a hint of curiosity.

"Well, I mean. There's rumours, okay? I don't know how true they are," Ren admitted.  
"What is it?"  
"Nah, I don't want to stir stuff."  
"If you wanna clear it up, just ask me," he smiled. What was the problem? People wouldn't know about the whole bloodsucking, Dracula ghoul shit or they'd be screaming. Or laughing. It had to be something else, likely untrue.  
"Later. I've gotta go to class." 

.................................

The museum was a vast and eerie space. Large oak doors welcomed visitors, enormous stone pillars crept from one end of the room to the other. Inside glass cabinets, the past sat proudly, concealing secrets. Vases and bones and clothing. Voices and footsteps and formaldehyde. August was happy to come here. He was really enjoying spending time with his new friend, it was nice. He'd imagined that he might make an acquaintance on his first day, but not someone with similar interests. Certainly not an attractive one.

"Boo!" he shouted, grabbing onto August's shoulders from behind. This was probably the last barrier to break down after being friends for a week, the touch barrier.  
"Oh my god," he laughed. "Trying to knock the air out of me?"  
"I missed you a bit," Ren smiled, leading him down the steps and into the Egyptian section. "This," he gestured out with his hands, "is where there are many pots and small children."   
He was right, it was. Apparently, there was always a primary school year group studying Egyptians, it was a perpetual thing.

"And this," he began again, "is where I cried for a straight hour in year 3." August laughed, apparently mummified remains were not Ren's forte.  
"Is that when you first moved here?" August enquired.  
"I moved in year two, yeah. So that's what, six or seven?"  
August nodded.  
When you come here expecting elegant sphinxes and in return get pickled human, it's not a fair deal.  
Not even pickled, more like dried out, August wasn't entirely sure. He'd have to read the plaques instead of listening to Ren, and he liked Ren's commentaries better.

They made their way through Egypt to find a geode and crystal section. This was Ren's favourite part of the museum.   
"Come in here." He gathered August closer with one hand, pulling at the curtain with his other. Behind the black velvet curtain was a room as black as black velvet.  
August couldn't see a thing and reached out to steady himself. Ren spun him around so he faced the twinkling displays. Neon pink stones glittered and projected light in their illuminated boxes. Blue, green, sparkling yellows. Deep sea turquoise, dark mystic rubies and soft violets. Olive green rings shone out from Ren's face, almost as bright as the stones.   
"I like it here." August commented, his thoughts dancing as he tried to focus on something solid. He was spinning again. Being in this tight space with him was messing with his head, unable to use his surroundings to steady him.  
"Dinosaurs next?" Ren smiled.

They sat, reflecting upon the day, in the large café. In a contented silence, they observed the others in the room.  
"Doctor. Definitely."  
"Nope, I'm thinking teacher."  
"Please, look at those authoritative arms."  
"What the fuck?" August laughed. "If that's what you want to believe."  
August spotted a couple a few tables ahead of them, eyes smiling at each other like a lighthouse signal, wordless yet important. "They gonna last?" Ren gestured his thumb and tilted his head towards them.   
"Two children."  
"Bullshit, I give it four months," he grinned devilishly.  
"You're so pessimistic."   
This was where August's curiosity got the better of him. "Speaking of which, how's Holly?"  
"I'm not sure. She asked me out on Wednesday."  
August faltered and sputtered mid-sip. "She did what?"  
"I said yes..." Ren mumbled, blushing into his lemonade.  
"I'm so happy for you dude," he exclaimed. But he wasn't happy. He was disappointed. August was hoping as hard as his little fingers would cross, that he would be open to other offers... well, males. He still could, but that didn't matter because he was officially off the market.  
He internally groaned, the confirmation of his wasted emotions made the whole day seem slightly tainted, next time he wouldn't aim so high.

 

His name was called. "Come quickly!" yelled his mother. August galloped down the stairs, clinging onto the bannister. "I can sense a deer a mile off! You gonna go for it?"  
August nodded, squinting his eyes and trying to switch to predator mode in his brain.

"I'm surprised at you, I thought you'd be thirstier. Your father and I were both pretty uncontrollable at your age, I've barely seen you drink at all."  
"I drink a lot a night."August told her, he didn't really like to admit that he quite liked to drink his post-wank. His hormones were all a little bit mixed up.

"Go outside, let's see how you do."  
So he did. He wasn't sure whether he should change forms for this one. Apparently, it was personal preference. Cat was more inconspicuous, so that way he went.

His paws crunched against the fallen leaves as he found his way through the woods. His thundering heart-rate increased as his senses sharpened and refined.  
The air swept past his face, the trees blurred past, each trunk appeared to curve around him as he pounded forward. He was so ready for this. Ever faster, he barely felt his feet hit the floor. Leap after leap, he completely lost his senses. Hunger and thirst blurred together as he smelt the blood. The metallic, robust scent smacked his senses. This was better than any blood he'd tasted, this was different entirely. He saw the soft flesh of the deer and the thought of his canines puncturing through and his jaw convulsing drove his head insane.

He pounced without remorse.

His teeth sunk into it and he began to devour the skin, reaching the pungent ichor.  
Liquid, pervasive with power, coursed through him and made him light-headed.  
As he tilted his head back in appreciation, he spotted the face of the creature.  
This nauseating brute was human.  
A hunter.

He'd sought out the source of the vulnerability, sure. This was not quite what he meant. When an animal kills, it is still pure. It knows what it has to do, and due to its lack of worldly morals, it is free to live on. It does not succumb to persecution for its lack of morally righteous beliefs. Humans on the other hand, make decisions. It is not kill to survive, it is kill to have fun. In bulk. It is sick.  
However, August had once been one of them, he followed these same morals, and he'd just killed one of his own. He, had ended a person's life.   
A soft gasp escaped his lips.  
He'd just killed someone. A living, breathing person with parents and siblings, professions and words, laughter and children.  
"Holy fuck."

Could he go back and tell his mother? She would understand. Nevertheless, she would be sad, and she would have to deal with it.  
August had not yet been taught how to dispose or cover up bodies.

The deer had skittered northbound. It was staring, wide-eyed at him -If he hadn't blinked, he would be sure- but he could have sworn the deer nodded him a thankful bow.

"Oh my god," he repeated over and over. He checked the pulse. Definitely dead. "Oh my god."

The only thing he could think of; leaves. August scooped them up quickly, breath hitching and hurried. He threw them over the man, on the verge of a panic attack.  
He took one last look at his face; tanned caucasian, blue eyes, dark hair. Thick wrinkles were etched into his face. At least he'd lived a little.

He returned, seeming a little forlorn.  
"Did you catch it?" his mom asked.   
"Yeah." His head was down. He felt like bursting into tears.  
She clocked it.  
"I'm sorry August."  
It was a family tradition of sorts, passed through generations: if the firstborn could make the first kill without teaching, with present temptations, he was destined for great things.   
"Your father didn't quite make it either," she told him, patting the seat beside her.  
"Really?" His eyes met hers for the first time since he'd entered, the familiar family hazel joining with its soothing powers.  
"Mhm. He was the first to get it wrong actually, it's all as simple as wrong place, wrong time. He's accepted it and moved on. It's just a part of life." She held him close and squeezed.  
"It's not a part of human life, mom."   
"We have a gift, you can do things that people can only dream of. Some humans would kill for this."  
"Let them! I don't want to kill at all. I want a normal life, with death and marriage and... and I don't want to bring pain and suffering where ever I go." He choked on his words as he realised he would never have this casual normality. He broke into a light sob.  
"Honey, when have you ever wanted to be normal?"

"I didn't think it would be like this," he sobbed, gripping onto his elbows and enveloping himself into his sorrows.

"It's your hormones doing this to you, they'll settle down in a few weeks." She kissed his head.  
"So what if it is hormones? It doesnt mean I feel it any less. It isn't any less valid." His voice was rising slowly, anger and emotion bubbling. "I killed someone. I am a murderer."


	8. Chapter 7

"I was talking to my mum last night and she said that in her day, all the girls from Cresington were tarts, and I said, well mum, they're all tarts now too. It's like the chicken and the egg. What came first, the tarts or the Cresington? How do they all congregate in one place? What manufactured the tarts in 1964? Y'know? It's mad. Anyway, how was the museum?"

"It was good, thanks." August mumbled, his palm becoming his cheek's best friend. How could he enter normal society with blood on his hands?

"Yeah, I like the dead butterflies. Do you think they'd let me buy them? I need some accessories for prom."

"Maybe," he answered. "I doubt it." Wow, he thought, that was a bit of a new low. Hypocritical of him to think so, he thought again.

Ren returned to his seat, slinging his bag down with his pizza baguette. "Hey babe." he smiled, pecking Holly on the cheek. She blushed. August shuffled uncomfortably.

"Sorry."

"That's okay. I'm just gonna go and do my injection."  
He had impromptu diabetes now. Insulin is what he called it, blood is what it was.

And he'd been dreading this moment all day. He began to tremor just thinking about it.

"Okay." Holly gave a warm smile and he felt guilty for all he usually felt towards her. She wasn't that bad.  
She wasn't an inconvenience between the boys, Ren just didn't want him.  
She wasn't in the way.

 

 

The blue tiles of the bathroom glistened with flecks of blood as August sat, wide eyed and shaking having ripped off the lid of his flask too fast. Fixated, he thumbed the fabric of his polo shirt, all darting glances and heavy breathing. He needed to do this.

He'd been putting this off; so much so that he felt sick with longing. August felt like crying when he so much as even thought of it entering his mouth, but he had to.

Lifting the flask towards a sip, he began to stunt his own respiration. His heart was beating so fast he could feel it in his legs, so heavy it thrummed and vibrated, heaving his chest up and down. Every time he caught a bit of the scent he could picture the man's face. His mouth slack and lifeless, his eyes staring at him as if their owner had never thought at all, his body was so limp that it was hard to imagine it had ever been anything but. Those eyes, the way they pierced through him and hit his chest, it reminded him of the way he felt now.

Gulping it down, he heaved over the toilet bowl, trying so desperately to keep it inside of him. He reminded himself that the more he struggled, the more he had to clean up. Bloodstains didn't look great in the boy's bathroom. 

He spoke to his mother about it that night. She'd never known of a Pyre who had been panicked over blood. Apparently, because the integration of Pyre and human now comes so naturally, it can become harder for younger members of the species to disconnect from their human tendencies, meaning killing can leave them with post-traumatic stress disorder. The more blood they drink, the more desensitised they become, and they become more Pyre than otherwise. She had been reading lots of articles in the 'family' newspaper.

 

 

August hadn't seen Ren in a while, he was always out with Holly. Always. Dates to the cinema, dates to a cafe, dates to the park, trips to the forest. And with that, here he was, completely alone watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show in a duvet at three in the afternoon, with his hands down his pants.

He could breathe around blood now, he enjoyed it again. Occasionally, the thought would reappear, but normally this was in the absence of blood and thankfully other people.

He missed his friends. He saw them for part of lunchtime, never at break time and now, never after school. August sat with Valentine all the time: bus, break, lunch, dinner, and at television time. He was beginning to become quite agitated. The loss of human touch was driving him wild. In his last home, which happened to be his first home, he'd usually find someone to get close to, his last partner had been very affectionate. Now, he had no one at all. To kiss, to touch, to have conversations with, fuck, Ren didn't even know he wasn't straight.

He lay in his bed in the center of the room, arms propped under his head and his legs wide wondering: "Why did things turn out this way?" thinking about all the opportunities he'd missed.

He hated pining, but one thing he really despised was pining for the unattainable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all I have for now of my bulk of pre-written stuff, so I must now delve into my brain once again! Would you believe me if I told you I have been planning this story for three years and rewritten it at least 50 times? Perseverance? Anyway, I'm in the middle of my GCSEs now, so we'll see how long it takes me to write again.  
> Adios.


	9. Chapter 8

"Oh dear god. It's rose from the dead!"  
The hands, outstretched and clawing at the walls, made their way down the stairs. Footsteps heavy and thundering, a small frame came down the stairs. "Val, seriously? We have ten minutes 'til the bus arrives."  
Valentine scrunched up his eyes and rubbed them. His pyjama bottoms were hanging off his waist and a tshirt that was clearly too small was clinging to his torso. His hair was stuck in every direction, like a sleepy plasma ball. "Here." August sighed, handing him his glasses.

"I'll make you coffee, go get dressed."

It was like a flashback to how August was a year ago. This fact made him smile.

 

Hey! Are you okay?" August gushed, desperate to catch up with his best friend.  
"Yeah."  
"I heard you went home early yesterday?"  
"Yeah."

"Oh."

August was supposed to come to Ren's house tomorrow. Instead of being excited, he seemed pretty despondent.

"Yeah, I wasn't feeling too good. I mean, I was fine... I just hated being here."

"Oh."

August couldn't help but feel offended by this. A disregard for school is one thing, but a hatred? It felt a bit jagged and personal, since August's only real reason for coming to school was Ren.

August bit his nail; he had a biology test today. It was soon approaching GCSE time and he didn't know an awful lot so far. The syllabus was completely different in this country. He'd completely flunked it. Cloning and cells seemed pretty straightforward but when it came to it, it seemed all he knew was Dolly the Sheep's name and the fact that Valentine used to have a sheep costume that he wore everywhere he went, leaving a trail of displaced wool. 

"Let's go to maths," Ren mumbled. They walked in silence.

Mr Sandford spoke and the words spiralled out of his mouth. Key words and numbers. Numbers that whirled and spun and never quite reached August's ears. He imagined them, the harsh and heavy plosives tumbling and bouncing from the walls. He imagined them jumping straight into some people's heads, but never gifting themselves to August. How he wished so badly that he had an academic brain. But truthfully, he didn't wish that. He knew that he would be so bored without his endless daydreams.

He never touched upon these dreams, believing that he never had abstract thoughts. He longed that he could be weirder, cling on to that childhood madness that he'd kept through half of his adolescence. It was slipping away and he could feel it. He sighed.

"August? Number 6?"

 

He looked at Ren who sat dutifully opposite, unaware of his gaze. It took half of August's might not to stand up and yell at him, the other half of it to not to get up and push a strand of his hair out of his face. Ren's delicately-framed eyes flashed upwards, the stern, bold irises passing their way through the airwaves of August's thoughts. He looked away, hot in the face, caught.

If Ren wasn't going to talk to him, August decided, he was going to look at him.  
So he stared. Directly and completely, he stared. Ren looked up and caught sight of him.

Fixed.

August raised and eyebrow and thought about things. He weighed out his options and decided upon the subtlest conclusion.

August winked at Ren.

Ren's eyes widened. He stifled a giggle, his eyes bulging a little as he tried to cover his mouth with his hands. A quiet snort sounded and the class glanced over to him. By this point, August was holding back laughter too.

 

The boys got out at 3:02. The unresolved actions of Ren earlier on seemed to continue on.

"What do your parents do?"

"Hm?" Ren glanced up at him, a little surprised.

"I said what do your parents do, I don't think I've ever asked."

"Oh, my mom is a secretary for a car firm. My dad is, um," he coughed over his words, trying to muffle them. "He's a scientist."

"Wow, that's cool. My dad is too!" But Ren already knew that.

"What does your mom do?"

"She writes. Articles, television episodes, books, reviews, anything she can get her hands on really. She always uses a pseudonym though."

Ren nodded. August was hoping he might have been a little more enthusiastic, but never mind.

"Well, this is my stop," August laughed. They had walked all the way here for Ren to drop him off nonchalantly and leave.

"Bye."

 

August stepped inside, hanging up his outside clothes on the overflowing peg. Scented candles were burning in the hallway and a silence and sense of calm hit him. The house had been unpacked. He was upset about Ren, but this was the closest the house had felt to their home since they'd moved. "Mom, what did you do? It feels just like Jersey."

His mother wrapped her arms around him and smiled. "I know."

 

 

Part 2:

He was so ready for the day. He was going to get up early and go for a run. He might even try to hunt again. The more blood, the less human he felt compared, so he could do it now. He felt energized. August drank a smoothie for breakfast and grazed on some toast, if he couldn't have his friend, he would try to have himself. The best version of himself he could. The spanner in the works was that he was ready the night before, but in the morning he couldn't wake himself up. He did eventually.

One foot out of the door, about to change forms, he took a deep breath, unbuttoning his shirt.

"August?"

Holy fuck. August took a step back. Ren was outside. He had nearly stripped and transfigured semi-simultaneously in front of him. Nearly.

"What are, what are you doing here? It's--" He glanced at his wrist. "It's 7 o clock in the morning."

"I thought you might say that. I wanted to apologise, I was really off with you yesterday and there is a reason. But it's not your fault."

August cocked an eyebrow.

"Look, I have to ask you a question. It's important before things get ugly."

'Oh god here it comes,' thought August. 'He knows I have a crush on him, he thinks it's weird. He's going to give me that long talk about how he doesn't see me in that way and our friendship will be uncomfortable forever.' He grimaced.

Ren took a deep breath. "Your dad- well, it's my father's problem, but anyway- is his name Matthew?"

August's eyes widened. Why the hell would he ask that?

"Yeah... why?"

"Well then there's a slight change of plan. You can't come round to my house." Ren said, bluntly but with caution in his tone once he'd finished the sentence.

"Woah what?" August was horrified. What had he done so dreadfully wrong? 

Ren laughed, a mischievous smile ran across his lips. "I can, however, come round to yours... if that's okay."

"You're actually so... I don't- why can't I come to yours?!"

Ren's hands rubbed the back of his neck, his feathered, razored hair stuck out and was comforted by his hand running through it.

"Our dads work together, I just found out. Co-worker's talk. My dad he's not the most tolerant person and you coming to--"

"Wait. I don't understand?"

"I know, August."

There was a moment of silence and it crept into August's mind. He knew. If his Father wasn't tolerant, they generally raise their children the same way.

"I'm not homophobic August. I just wanted you to know that I know. And that I'm okay with it."

More silence.

"Yours tonight, right?" Ren grinned, breaking the tension. He could be so rude sometimes, inviting himself to someone else's vampire lair. The way he said it made it sound suggestive considering their previous conversation and August couldn't help but laugh.

"Sure."

A weight was lifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a chemistry GCSE tomorrow and I stayed up writing this instead. Hope you appreciate.. Whoops.


End file.
